


Father-Figure

by beetle



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this inception_kink prompt, "Robert gets off on calling Eames "daddy" during sex. Eames likes it too."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father-Figure

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Do I look like Christopher Nolan?  
> Notes: Set post Inception. Daddy!kink.

“Robert?”  
  
At Eames’s discreet knock, Robert sinks even lower in Eames’s bathtub, the cold porcelain making him shiver. He’s been in the tub for over an hour . . . since . . .  _it_  had slipped out. Eames being Eames had let Robert stew in his own embarrassment for that whole time, and now, it would appear, it’s time to  _talk_.  
  
Not if Robert has anything to say about it. “Go away, Andrew.”  
  
“That poses a bit of a problem, since you’re in  _my_  bathroom, petal.”  
  
Oh. Right.  
  
Robert hugs his knobby knees to his chest for a moment then stands up with a sigh. In the medicine cabinet mirror, his naked reflection does the same, looking bloodless and traumatized.  
  
“Pervert,” the reflection whispers to him, sneering disdainfully. Robert can’t think of anything to say to that. After all, when a man’s right, he’s right.  
  
Stepping out of the tub, he pads across cool linoleum to the bathroom door. Taking a deep breath, he pulls on his most expressionless of masks and unlocks the door, opening it just wide enough to slip out past a concerned-looking Eames.  
  
“I’ll be dressed and out of your hair in a minute,” he says lowly, not meeting Eames’s eyes. But he’s halted, halfway between bathroom and bed, by Eames’s calloused, warm hand on his arm.  
  
“Robert,  _stop_.” Eames’s voice is just as low, and grave to boot. When Robert tries to yank his arm free without stopping, Eames simply squeezes tighter—tight enough that Robert, pale as he is, will have bruises in a few hours—and pulls him back. Robert stumbles backwards, nearly falling, and Eames catches him and holds him up by his biceps.  
  
(This is something Robert has loved about Eames from the beginning: his strength, and willingness to manhandle Robert in just the right ways. From the first time Eames bent him over a flat surface, to the last time Eames pinned him to the elevator wall on the way up to Robert’s penthouse.  
  
He’s a commanding, powerful presence, and not just because of his raw physicality. Robert can’t help but be drawn to him. Sometimes, he feels as if they’ve known each other for longer than a mere year.)  
  
“We should talk about what happened,” Eames says, his breath warm in Robert’s hair. He shivers again, and tries to pull away. No dice. “Let me rephrase that, sweetheart:  _you’re not leaving_  until we talk about this.”  
  
Robert laughs, sagging back against Eames’s chest for a moment. He loves the feel of Eames’s chest hair on his back, and means to hold onto the memory of the sensation for as long as he can, now that this . . . whatever it is they had is likely over. “What’s there to talk about?”  
  
“Well, let’s see.” Eames’s grip relaxes a little. “There’s the fact that you called me ‘Daddy’ while I was fucking you—“ Robert turns what he knows to be a hideous vermillion “—then, when I in no way expressed either shock or displeasure, and in fact encouraged you, you shoved me over and jumped out of my bed. Then you locked yourself in my loo for over an hour. Would that do as a topic for conversation?”  
  
Robert hangs his head. “I don’t want to talk about this. Let go of me.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You can’t hold onto me forever, you know?”  
  
Eames chuckles, and Robert can feel the rumble of it against his back. “I think you’ll find that I can, darling. In fact, I have no intention of  _ever_  letting you go.”  
  
Leaning his head back on Eames’s shoulder, Robert closes his eyes. “Don’t say things you don’t mean just to make me feel better.”  
  
“When have you known me to do that?”  
  
 _Never_ , Robert’s mind immediately supplies. He’s known Andrew Eames for a little over a year, first as his chief of security then, for the past six months, as his lover. And in all that time, Eames has never been anything less than candid with him. Has never failed to speak his mind.  
  
Robert admires that about him and has looked up to Eames from damn near day one. The thought that he may have gone down in  _Eames’s_  estimation is unbearable. . . .  
  
“I . . . I’ve never wanted to be fucked by my father,” Robert blurts out defensively, and Eames kisses his temple, his arms tight and strong around Robert’s.  
  
“I never said you did.”  
  
“And I don’t need a father figure,” he insists, and it sounds hollow to his own ears.  
  
“No, but I think you want one. I can be that for you, if you like.” At that, Robert’s cock twitches back to life and he colors once more. Eames noses his hair and inhales, reaching around to stroke Robert slowly, teasingly, dragging his thumb across the tip of Robert’s cock repeatedly, till Robert is panting and squirming. “And I think you  _do like_.”  
  
“I don’t . . . need your . . . sufferance. Especially in bed.”  
  
Eames maneuvers them to the aforementioned bed and sits down, pulling Robert into his lap. It’s then that Robert notices something he’d failed to notice before, caught up in his own drama: Eames is  _hard_.  
  
“I’ve done many things with and to you in bed, my love, but suffer you isn’t one of them,” Eames murmurs in his ear, licking the lobe. “So don’t go putting moralistic judgments in my mouth.”  
  
“I’m not . . . you can’t possibly want to be with someone who calls you ‘Daddy’ in bed.”  
  
Eames takes Robert’s cock in hand and resumes stroking it. The other hand slides up Robert’s torso, not stopping till it reaches his right nipple. “I want to be with  _you_ , so I do believe I can.” He pinches Robert’s nipple hard enough to elicit a yelp, after which Robert’s head drops back on Eames’s shoulder and he gets kissed: a slow, dirty, open-mouthed affair that leaves him gasping and moaning for more. Eames immediately obliges, and continues the torturously slow glide of his hand on Robert’s cock.  
  
“Please. . . .”  
  
Eames groans a little. “Love it when you’re like this.”  
  
“Why?” Robert asks breathlessly. “How can you possibly still want me?”  
  
“Darling, you’re not the depraved monster you seem to think you are. Nor are you the first man to call his lover ‘Daddy’ in the throes of passion.” Eames chuckles.  
  
“But—“  
  
“And how do you know I  _don’t_  like being called ‘Daddy’ while I’m fucking you?”  
  
“But you  _can’t_ \--“  
  
“There you go, assuming you know what I do and don’t feel.” Eames sighs. “You really must stop doing that. It’d make things between us go much smoother.”  
  
Robert feels a moment of acute embarrassment; not two months ago, he and Eames had had their first real misunderstanding over whether or not their relationship was purely sexual. Robert, acting on the assumption that it was—despite wanting more—had nearly lost the only real relationship he’d ever had. Only Eames’s persistence and almost eerie insight into Robert had saved what Robert is slowly beginning to accept is their . . .  _love_.  
  
But in  _this_  case, Eames couldn’t really  _understand_  . . . couldn’t really  _want_. . . .  
  
It’d be impossible that his and Robert’s desires could mesh so well together. Right?  
  
And even if they did, those desires are still  _wrong_ , aren’t they?  
  
Eames chuckles again, low and throatily. “If it’s wrong, darling, then we’ll be wrong  _together_.”  
  
Realizing he’d spoken aloud, Robert flushes vermillion again, closing his eyes. “Two wrongs don’t make a right, Andrew.”  
  
“Perhaps not, but I’ve discovered that in life, one can be right, or one can be happy. The two are often mutually exclusive.”  
  
Robert opens his eyes and looks up into Eames’s; they’re solemn and intense in the way he’s come to understand means that Eames is extremely turned on.  
  
Just in case the erection pressed against his ass wasn’t clue enough.  
  
Realization once more sweeping through him, Robert brings his hand up to brush his fingers across Eames’s jaw. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”  
  
“As a heart attack, love.” Eames kisses his palm, and smiles. “Now, tell me how long you’ve been wanting to call me ‘Daddy.’”  
  
“I—“ Robert looks down at Eames’s hand on his cock, still moving slowly, occasionally cupping his balls and squeezing gently. “Almost since the beginning.”  
  
“Ah,” Eames exhales against his cheek, shifting his hips and pressing his hard-on more firmly against Robert. “God, do you know what that does to me?”  
  
“I’m s-starting to get an idea.”  
  
“Good.” Eames runs fingers down Robert’s cock, past his balls and to his perineum, tugging gently on the thin, sensitive skin. Robert gasps. “Now, let Daddy take care of you.”  
  
Biting his lip and fighting not to come, Robert breathes in shallow breaths through his nose, then out through his mouth. “Oh,  _God_ , we can’t, Andrew. . . .”  
  
“Yes, we can. And that’s not what you  _want_  to call me, is it, darling?” Eames smiles against Robert’s temple, drawing the foreskin of his cock over the tip and making a soft, truncated moan when Robert shimmies against him. “We both know you want to be my good little boy.”  
  
A choked sound escapes Robert’s lips and Eames wraps his arm around Robert’s waist, scooting them back on the bed till only their feet dangle over the edge. “Do you trust Daddy to take care of you?”  
  
The synapses in Robert’s brain briefly go haywire before shutting down completely, and he nods fervently.  
  
“Not good enough, sweetheart. I need you to  _say_  it.”  
  
“I . . . I want you to take care of me.” Robert hesitates, but only for a moment, only to wonder at the circumstance he finds himself in. “ _D-daddy_?”  
  
“That’s a good boy.” Eames groans again, kissing his neck, and Robert fairly glows with the praise. “And I will. Up on your knees, love.”  
  
Coasting on the shocking freedom and abandon that sweeps through him, Robert nods again and obeys, getting to his knees, still straddling Eames’s legs. “Yes, Daddy.”  
  
“Good.” Eames runs his hand down Robert’s back, stopping momentarily at the small, then drifting lower. “Open for me, love.”  
  
Once more Robert obeys, spreading his legs wider. Eames’s fingers push between his cheeks, two of them sliding easily into Robert, who’s still stretched and slick from before. But Eames still scissors his fingers carefully, until Robert’s squirming and whimpering  _more, Daddy, more_.  
  
Eames kisses his back and removes his fingers. “Anything for my sweet, beautiful boy.” Another kiss, then Eames lets go of Robert’s cock, placing both hands on Robert’s hips.  
  
“Come sit on Daddy’s lap,” he says softly, but with steely hints of a command. Robert shudders and shakes with the need to come, but he doesn’t. With all the willpower he has, he doesn’t come.  
  
Instead, he lowers himself slowly, oh, so slowly downward, with Eames guiding his hips.  
  
“Ohhhh,” he sighs when the tip of Eames’s cock breaches him carefully, neither of them stopping their individual momentums until Robert is seated in Eames’s lap and flush against his chest. For a few seconds, all Robert can do is pant and let gravity take him down onto Eames’s cock as far as he’s able.  
  
Large, gentle hands squeeze his hips approvingly. “Perfect, that’s . . . that’s my good boy,” Eames says, kissing the nape of Robert’s neck and his shoulders. “Are you ready for more?”  
  
 _I’ve been ready for six months_. “Yes, D-daddy.”  
  
Eames’s hands clench on Robert’s hips and with seemingly little effort, Robert’s being pulled up onto his knees again. Lost in the slow withdrawal of Eames’s cock, he’s barely any help, his legs shaking along with the rest of him.  
  
When Eames is almost completely withdrawn, but for the very tip of his cock, he begins to pull Robert down once more. This time, when Robert’s seated in his lap, Eames shifts and arranges him minutely till Robert goes stiff for a moment, them pushes back against him greedily, whispering  _please, Daddy, please._  
  
For a while, there’s only up and down: the strong, slow glide of Eames’s cock in and out, the relentless pressure on Robert’s prostate, and the soft, pleased grunts from the both of them. Until the hands clenching on Robert’s hips hold him down for longer than usual, without pulling him back up.  
  
“Daddy?” It comes out just as easily, just as naturally as  _Andrew_  ever did. But for the way it makes Eames tremor against him and within him, Robert barely notices he’s saying it.  
  
“Such a good boy you are,” Eames murmurs on the back of Robert’s neck, his voice cracking and unsteady. “Come, now. Come for Daddy.”  
  
Robert gasps and jerks in Eames’s arms, his body suddenly strung tight like piano-wire, and shaking like an earthquake. His head once more drops back onto Eames’s shoulder, his eyes screwed tight-shut.  
  
 _”Daaaaddy,”_  he groans, low and long, coming all over his chest in hot spurts, Eames’s approving, encouraging voice in his ear until the hands on his hips pull him up once more, then down again  _hard_ , and Eames spends himself in Robert’s body with a shout. . . .  
  
When Robert comes back to himself, they’re reclined, himself on Eames and Eames on the bed. His arms are wrapped around Robert’s waist, his legs bracketing Robert’s.  
  
“M’ I heavy?” Robert croaks hoarsely, rolling his head a little to kiss Eames’s jaw.  
  
“Not hardly.” Eames kisses his forehead. “You’re my good boy.”  
  
Too tired and sated to blush, Robert grimaces, feeling vaguely foolish, now that the ‘throes of passion’ have passed. But he’s also genuinely curious, too.  
  
“Did you really get off on me, um, calling you Daddy?”  
  
Eames bucks up under Robert, still in him and still hard enough to make Robert moan. “You know I did. So stop feeling guilty, or silly, or whatever nonsense is going through that pretty head of yours.”  
  
Still feeling foolish, but for another reason entirely, now, Robert pulls one of Eames’s hands up to his mouth and kisses it. “Yes, Daddy.”  
  
“Oh, Christ,” Eames breathes, reflexively bucking up into him again, but he’s gone soft enough that when he settles on the bed again, he slides out and they both sigh. “Don’t tease me like that, naughty boy. At least not for another half an hour.”  
  
Robert slides off of Eames then wriggles around till he’s curled up on Eames’s chest, feeling smug and sexy. “Or what?”  
  
Eames tilts Robert’s chin up till their eyes meet, his own stern and playful. “Or Daddy shall have to spank you, is what.”  
  
Robert shivers and grins, circling his finger slowly around Eames’s nipple and gazing into the eyes of the man he loves.  
  
“ _Yes . . . Daddy._ ”


End file.
